The Only Participation Prize I Agree With

I did it.

I ran a half-marathon.
Almost a month ago, but that's neither here nor there.

The entire time I was running, I kept thinking about the epic blog post I would write bragging telling y'all all about it.

I've been in a complete state of shock since about mile 9.
I never ever had any desire to run a half-marathon.
In fact, I distinctively remember having a conversation in February with one of the girls I teach with about our upcoming 5K Glow Run that went a little something like this...

"It won't be that bad...it's not like it's something stupid like a half-marathon. Who would ever willingly run 13.1 miles anyway?"

Foot meet mouth.

Apparently, I am not that person who willingly runs 13.1 miles.

Well, the one who ran 13.1 miles. 

I honestly don't know if it'll ever happen again. 

I didn't train the way I was supposed to at. all. 

And I guess technically, my time suffered because of that.

But really, who the eff cares? 

By race day, I had one goal - to finish. 

Well that, and not keel over and die.

Once I started running I knew I wanted to make it to at least mile 6 without stopping. A 10K. Totally doable, even with my lack of training. 

Mile 6 came and went and I was still feeling pretty good so I kept going. 

And going and going. 

By about mile 10 I felt like dying forreal and started taking short little walking breaks.

At mile 11 I got scared I was getting lost. So I picked up the pace a little.

And by mile 12 I was almost tears. I had one mile left and knew I could do anything for one mile. 

Little did I know, it was THEE longest mile of my life. That last stretch to the finish line felt like the never-ending Rainbow Race on Mario Kart. 

Not only was Robbie waiting for me at the finish line, my mom was there with craisons. And let me tell you what. I have never loved craisons so good as I did in that moment. 

I was also greeted with a big, shiny medal.

Now, usually I am not a fan of participation medals/trophies/awards/etc.

The winner gets a medal. 

Everyone else gets the satisfaction of finishing. 

Personally, I think it's doing our kids an injustice by not keeping scores at sporting events and not letting anyone "lose". It's sending the completely wrong message.

However, the satisfaction I felt of finishing was HUGE but I was equally as proud of  having that medal. #sorrynotsorry

After meeting up with some other friends who also ran the race, cashing in my beer tickets (which I thought I lost mid-run...yipes), and purchasing my obnoxious 13.1 car sticker, I devoured a huge hot hamburger plate (at 10:30AM mind you) and went home to take a 5 hour nap. I was exhausted. 

My legs were screaming at me that night and it was slow moving on Sunday but by Monday I felt almost back to normal. A little sore but nothing terrible. 

Finishing that race was quite possibly one of the most out of body things I've ever done. 

It's still surreal to think that I actually ran 13.1 miles. 

My final time was 2:22 which was slooooooow but steady. 

8 months ago I was no where near "a runner". 

It still even feels strange calling myself "a runner" and the fact that I haven't been running since the race probably supports that feeling. 

But in a short amount of time, I set a goal, pushed myself completely out of my comfort zone, and accomplished that goal.

And got a medal!

P.S. I don't want to speak too soon, but I may or may not have given myself a goal to actually become a regular blogger again. Keep your fingers crossed.